Workshopping – Page 4 – Robin Houghton

Courses/ 19/04/2013

Ty Newydd excitement & friends’ news

What’s been your experience of writers’ residential courses? I’ve heard many good things from friends who’ve done an Arvon course or similar. The idea of a few days holed up in seclusion with time and space to focus on writing does seem like a wonderful luxury.

I created my own ‘retreat’ a couple of years ago and rented a tiny beach house at Camber Sands for a few days in March. I was lucky with the weather – cold but bright and breezy days – but the place lacked a comfortable chair in which to write. I got a fair bit done, writing, reading and walking/thinking about writing. But I was a tad lonely, and it’s hard to stay motivated on your own.

Anyway I’ve finally booked onto a course and I’m feeling quite excited about it. It’s billed as a poetry ‘masterclass’ with Carol Ann Duffy and Gillian Clarke and it’s at Ty Newydd in October. (Photo above from their website). What attracted me was the fact that we had to send some poems before we got definitely accepted. I’ve no idea if that was a token gesture – maybe there were only 16 applicants anyway – but it feels like some sort of quality control, and that really appeals to me. Hopefully we won’t have the kinds of problems described by Isabel Rogers on her blog recently. If you’re going to shell out 500 quid you kind of want to know that everyone else is at least as serious and willing to participate as you are (maybe that sounds a bit pompous but hey.)

PLUS… news of poet friends – Brighton Stanza organiser Jo Grigg has tried to keep quiet about the fact that she had two poems on the National Poetry Competition long list this year (come on Jo, could you try bragging a bit more, you’re making me look bad!) and Tess Jolly hit the jackpot in a US competition – there’s gold in them thar hills! Not only that, but Hastings roving writer Antony Mair is now sending out his poems and has had work accepted by Ink, Sweat & Tears and Acumen – nice one.

PS can anyone tell me how on earth to pronounce ‘Ty Newydd’? – thanks

Angst/ 15/04/2013

Submissions: this week’s yays and nays

Poetry Wales rejection and Obsessed with Pipework

Oh OK I might as well admit it – there are no new YAYs to report. But issue 62 of ‘Obsessed with Pipework’ arrived, including my poem ‘Calamity’ which just crept in at the back. It’s a bit of a weird one (the poem that is) and I’m grateful that Charles Johnson at ‘Obsessed’ has a keen eye for the quirky. In the magazine I spotted some nice work from a couple of people unknown to me but who I’m now tempted to seek out – more of that in another post.

Elsewhere in the mail, a nice note ‘I was interested to read your poems but not enough to offer publication’ from Poetry Wales. As usual, I look at the sorry poems squished into the SAE and wonder what milligram of merit I once imagined they contained. I’m hoping I may not be quite so ashamed of them once they are refiled and separated from the negative vibe of the no-thank-you note. Once dusted off, I may just send them out again. Or they may be destined for the ‘revisit one day’ folder.

Thank you to everyone for your lovely notes of sympathy by the way. I was really touched by messages of support from people I’ve not even met. Testimony to the power of social media – if I didn’t already believe that it’s all about people and NOT technology, I certainly would now. My mum’s funeral is planned for next week.

Meanwhile I’ve a couple of things to look forward to at least – on Thursday morning I’m leading my first workshop for New Writing South, on the subject of ‘Feel the social media fear (and do it anyway)’ – for writers who are reluctant to use social media for whatever reasons. I’m expecting some tough opposition – wish me luck!

Then on Saturday I’m attending a workshop with George Szirtes in Swindon on Saturday courtesy of BlueGate Poets. And I’m excited to be finally meeting Josephine Corcoran IRL after much lovely correspondance via this blog and various social media.

Angst/ 25/03/2013

Notes from a workshop

Last week I was lacking inspiration, part due to work commitments and then a 3-day headache – ugh – so it was a pleasure to once more find myself in the interesting ambience of the Lewes Bus Station building for another workshop with Mimi Khalvati and the group of serious poets I seem to have inveigled myself into. (Can one ‘inveigle oneself?’ Hmm).

Sometimes in these situations I have a feeling of ‘this is not real’. I suppose it’s the usual ‘I’m an imposter and any minute now I’m going to be found out’ anxiety that I gather many women (especially) suffer from. A bit like jobs I’ve had in the past when I’ve sat in meetings and had the distinct sensation of acting like I know why I’m there, like I know what’s going on and my presence is making a difference. It’s not exactly the fear of being unmasked, like that scene in ‘Working Girl’ when Melanie Griffith is accused of being a fake and leaves the boardroom saying ‘sorry! sorry!’ It is something like that. But it also feels like I’m in a play, or someone else’s dream. There’s something fragile about the situation, grounded in nothing much. It’s like meeting a childhood hero in your kitchen or office. The strange mix of something that’s at once real and unreal. The feeling that it might be you who’s actually experiencing this or it might be something you’re dreaming or watching happen to someone else. And then wondering if there’s any difference.

Anyway, sorry for the cod-philosophical moment there – back to business – it’s very odd how sometimes in workshops there emerges a kind of theme. I remember a previous session where there were a lot of poems about water. And another where houses featured prominently. This week, dreams and fairytales came up quite a few times.

So in no particular order, here were some of Mimi’s general observations/comments that I made a note of … hope they’re of use /interesting.

When you have what’s basically a list poem, how will you meld together the various items on the list? If you use the same construction for each (eg active verb phrases like He puts out …. she ties together … they wait.. etc) it can get wearing. What’s the mortar that will tie the ‘bricks’ of the poem together? Maybe think about rhythm more, or bring in other tenses, sentence constructions?

We’re often told to avoid poeticisms, and yet one that sometimes slips through is a noun phrase that starts “what…’ as in ‘what stirred him at that moment was XYZ’ or ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. Mimi says this is a sightly archaic construction – not something we tend to say in speech – beware.

General point on form – the structure needs to convey a thrill, just as much as the image or emotion you’re communicating.

Natural speech stress is not the same as metrical stress. When writing in strict metre it can be tempting to put in the little words that you might ordinarily leave out in free verse. But you can sometimes afford to drop the extra words and still keep to the metre. (This is something I need to work on – I tend to get drawn into ‘dumty-dum’ phrases if I’m not careful.)

Punctuation – it’s possible to be too punctilious! If someone is a fast reader, they may lose some of the excitement/interest if they are slowed down by commas or being too deliberately led. Specifying the pauses in this way can also put a big responsibility on those phrases to ‘scintillate’.

Competitions/ 13/03/2013

Super excited

… to actually make it onto a prizewinners list (The New Writer Poetry Prize 2012). The poem in question was one that had been through eight drafts over several months, and I’d workshopped it with two different groups. The content and form changed considerably as I yo-yo-ed back and forth. I’m quite keen to do a little case study on this, show how it started out, what changed and why and the feedback along the way. But I can’t do that until after it’s been published in July. So that’s for later. In the meantime thank you so much for all the lovely congrats on twitter and email.

Of course, I have pledged to treat both imposters just the same (success and failure) and so I’m reminded that being selected is as much about the personal taste of the judges*, the competition you’re up against, whether there’s an R in the month, etc. On that subject, I enjoyed this very nice post by Rachael Dunlop about how losing is not the same as failing.

So, onward! Also announced this week was the result of the Poetry Business 2012 Book & Pamphlet Competition – now that’s a shortlist I need to set my sights on! Great to see one of the 1st stage winners is Emma Danes, I’ve been following her progress and enjoying her poetry for a while. Nice one, Emma.

*I realise that may have sounded a bit rude – of course I’m extremely flattered to have won, and proud that the judge was Pascale Petit

Workshopping/ 05/03/2013

Every Stanza meeting is different

I turned up to yesterday’s Brighton Poetry Stanza meeting with pretty much a clean sheet regarding how we’d spend the time. Although it was scheduled as a poetry reading and/or workshopping group, everyone was actually wanting to workshop their own poems. So pretty straightforward, and virtually no facilitation required from me at all. Except it had to be one of the more unusual meetings I’ve been to.

First of all there were more men and than women (7:2) – almost unheard of. It was quite a lively and outspoken group (again, slightly unusual – perhaps we were missing the calming influence of Jo or Miriam, our regular facilitators?)

The poems presented were an eclectic mix, including one on a religious theme to accompany an art exhibition and three performance pieces. One poet handed round a series of short zen-like poems handwritten on cards, and we each read ‘ours’, unexpected and quite moving. There was a discussion about the spelling of licorice/liquorish and some heated argument about whether poems written to be read (off the page) and poems written for performance are different, and whether it actually matters what ‘performance’ pieces look like on the page.

As Antony and I ran to catch the train we couldn’t help agreeing that each Stanza meeting is different. On the train, we were discussing various things including the poetry of Ian Duhig and a woman across the aisle reached over and offered Antony a book – “I’m sorry to interrupt but I couldn’t help overhearing what you were talking about and I think you’d find this really interesting” she said. “Good News for a couple of lost souls?” was my first thought but no, it was ‘Be Glad You’re Neurotic’.

Antony was somewhat nonplussed but handled the whole thing very gallantly, including calling the young lady back after she had rushed for the door and left her bag behind. I confess I got the giggles and struggled to hold it together all the way home. You couldn’t make it up, as they say.

(Image: Poets’ Pub by Alexander Moffat, 1980)

Courses/ 03/03/2013

Forthcoming events

Last week I wasn’t able to get along to the first Pighog poetry night in Brighton as it was Nick’s birthday so we ate out at the Jolly Sportsman in East Chiltington (lush). BUT I’m looking forward to the next one on March 28th as Judith Cair, a lovely poet who I know from various workshopping groups, is launching her pamphlet The Ship’s Eye.

Tomorrow is the meeting of the Brighton Stanza, and we’re combining the reading and workshopping groups into one. Although we had booked our workshopping dates, the pub omitted to ‘put them in the book’ and as a result we were bumped. So we thought we’d combine the 2 groups for this month and next. Anyway, we’ll play it by ear and do whatever people want to do on the night.

Then on Wednesday I’m facilitating the ‘First Wednesday’ poetry group here in Lewes at Pleasant Stores, run by Colin Bell who’s away this week. It’s a new group and I’ve only been to one event myself. It’s mostly a reading group, there’s no workshopping. So I shall take plenty of current magazines and collections to share and read a few things from, and hopefully others will too.

Next Saturday 9th March is the New Writing South Publishing Industry Day at Brighton Library which should be brilliant: many good speakers/writers and industry experts, plenty of opportunities to network with writers, publishers, agents etc. I’m presenting a short session on ‘building your online writer presence’ as a taster for my new course running in April/May. Do come along if you can, and say hello.

Poet's Tips/ 27/01/2013

Notes from Mimi Khalvati workshop

Yesterday was the first of our monthly workshops with Mimi Khaltvati this year, and as usual I came away with plenty of new insights and reminders. Here are some of the things Mimi said which I jotted down, as usual I’ve tried to stick to ‘universal’ comments rather than those to do with specific poems. Hope you find it useful.

On form/shaping/editing: Test out different forms, don’t just plump for the first way you’ve written something, which may be a bunch of uneven-length stanzas. Is that really the best you can do? It can make a huge difference – for example triplets can be more musical, lighter than big blocks of ten lines or whatever.

On villanelles – they need “strenuous thought”. You have to think backwards. You need to have arrived at a transformation in the last two lines, their meaning needs to have changed even though the words haven’t.

On consistency of register – if you use contractions (I’m, he’s etc) sometimes but not always, that will seems wrong. Beware mixing up idiomatic and archaic phrases, especially if it’s done to fit a certain metre or rhyme scheme.

On rhyme – ‘if you choose the wrong word to rhyme then everything goes wrong!’

On specific references to things the reader may or may not be familiar with: “it’s courteous as a writer to assume the reader is one step ahead of you. It also makes for better writing.”

On developing a critical faculty – ask of other people’s writing (as a precursor to asking it of your own) ‘what is missing? what more could be done?’ “A fierce critical faculty is a wondrous gift.” Be prepared to think in larger terms rather than just tweaking.

On beautiful language – it’s not enough to just write beautifully. Too much beauty can be soporific. (Mimi admitted literally falling asleep at a reading by a prominent poet – I couldn’t possibly say who – because it was all too lovely “the melody, the evenness of the waves…”). So how can you break up it up? You need a counterpoint. Look at what you’ve written and move things about if necessary – a strong start to a line can serve as a stake, a prop holding things up. You may naturally write beautifully – but your best strength can also be your weakness.

On tricky links – you can make ‘leaps’ (I took this to mean the idea of moving between seemingly unrelated images or meanings) – leaps are good – but they need to be ‘clear leaps’. If something is in the way, confusing things, you need to get rid of that, clear the way.

On developing a ‘forensic’ eye for syntax – check for missing subjects or verbs that change tense, confused constructions, missing commas etc due to long sentences with sub-clauses over several stanzas. (For me, this is a bit like writing HTML – every time you open a bracket or start a new ‘declaration’ you have to close it, even if it’s hundreds of lines later, with all kinds of embedded instructions in between. If you get something wrong the whole thing falls apart. But it’s so satisfying when you find the missing inverted commas or bracket!)

Workshopping/ 11/01/2013

How to tackle the “What does it mean?” question

“Poems need room for the imagination to engage” says Roselle Angwin in a interesting blog post on creating ambiguity in a poem, not telling the whole story.

So here’s a problem I have, and I can’t be the only one! When I take a poem to a workshopping group I really don’t like explaining. Anything. I just don’t think it’s relevant. So if I’m asked straight away “what does this mean?’ I want to say ‘what do you think it means?’ Letting people decide, or hearing people discuss amongst themselves can be very revealing about where the problems are. Not in the sense of ‘oh no, they’ve got it all wrong, I need to change that so that my meaning is clear.’ Because if I do that, there’s no ‘work’ left for the reader. And anyway, I love it when people put their own take on a piece. It means they’ve engaged with it.

But how to tackle the ‘what does it mean” question? Sometimes people get a bit tetchy if I refuse to provide answers. And if I say ‘I prefer not to explain’ it all sounds rather pompous. Or if I do find myself explaining, I get all defensive and then annoyed that I’m coming across as not wanting criticism, which of course I do, but I think this ‘need to find the meaning’ gets in the way of really looking closely at the thing.

There are plenty of poems I can’t make sense of, especially on a first reading. If there’s a specific word or phrase I don’t understand, I may comment that this tripped me up, or ask if it’s important that the reader understands it.. By asking “is this important?” you are prompting the poet to question it in her mind. Personally, that’s the kind of feedback I find helpful – comments that make me really interrogate what I’ve written. What do you think? Do you agree? I know it’s not easy to give feedback – I find it really hard myself – so am I being unreasonable? Should I be grateful for any kind of feedback?

Readings/ 16/12/2012

Poetry reading on January 17th

The workshopping group that I go to in Brighton is holding an event, Ten Voice Stanza, on Thursday 17th January. If you are anywhere in the vicinity, please come – and tell your friends! There are ten of us reading and we each have a maximum of 8 minutes, to allow some time for open mic.

There are Stanza groups all over the country – they are affiliated to the Poetry Society, and although group members are encouraged to become PS members, it’s not obligatory. The Brighton Stanza was re-born about 3 years ago when Jo Grigg took it over, and in that time many members have established a pretty good track record of publication and success in competitions. So there will be a good variety and high standard of poetry at Ten Voice Stanza. BUT we’re all relative unknowns, so we need members, friends and friends of friends to help spread the word. Please help – thanks!

Hope to see you there…

Poet's Tips/ 09/12/2012

Brendan Cleary workshop – drafting poems

Yesterday I was in Brighton at the Pub with No Name (which is incidentally in an area with a pub on each street corner as well as halfway down each street, so not having a name is pretty cocky) for an all-day workshop with legendary Irish poet Brendan Cleary. (Brendan is editor of the recently relaunched magazine The Echo Room by the way – worth checking out.)

We were in the upstairs room with the bay window in the photo, with sun streaming through and views almost to the sea. It was an enjoyable, intense, not to mention beer-fuelled, day which ended in me falling asleep in my dinner, but more of that later perhaps!

The day’s focus was on the process of drafting poems. We all shared how we went about bringing a poem into being, how we beat it into shape, what triggered a new poem, that kind of thing. We each workshopped a poem before lunch, and (very briefly, although we ran out of time) another at the end of the day. In between we started a new poem and Brendan guided us through a couple of drafts of it. With just five of us in the group it was pretty full on.

In time-honoured tradition (I love being able to use all kinds of terrible cliches on this blog – sorry!) here are a few of the tips, ideas and other gems given to us by Brendan during the day.

On tense: it’s OK to put something that happened in the past into the present tense – the immediacy can make it fresh. But be careful not to mix tenses by accident.
It’s also OK to change details of something that actually happened, if the poem calls for it. It doesn’t mean you’re being unfaithful to the spirit of the poem.
If you use brackets, or dashes, or lower-case ‘I’ or whatever, have a rationale. Every decision like that, every punctuation mark counts and you should be able to defend your decisions if asked. They shouldn’t be arbitrary. Every tiny detail of the poem contributes to the whole.
Whether you start a poem with a page of notes, a random outpouring or a particular shape or form, the first step of redrafting is to go through and mark the bits you consider to be ‘grade A’ then cut everything else. With what’s left, a shape may start to emerge. Be prepared to experiment with different line lengths, different stanza lengths, different forms. What you have cut out may not necessarily be bad, and the bits you are really reluctant to cut may be the material that’s stopping the true poem from emerging – be aware of that.
Keep a notebook on you at all times and don’t be afraid of ruining it!
If you draft in longhand, the quicker you get it onto the computer the better as it helps the process of de-personalisation. Look at the poem on the page (when typewritten) and consider the logic behind the shape of it, and the white space. “The white space behind the words is the rest of the universe.”
Don’t get bogged down with making sure people will understand your poem. Removing some of your authorial intention is crucial – allow people to make their own interpretations and decisions as to what it’s about.
Engagement – you have to engage with your poem, and think about how it will engage readers.
A poem can go in its own direction. That’s when you might get that ‘did I really write that?’ moment.
When drafting/re-drafting ask yourself questions like “What do I not need to say?” “Is this really 2 poems?” “Have I given the trick away too quickly?” “Do I need to re-order lines, or even start at the end?”
You don’t often add to a poem after the first draft, but you often cut.
Poems can be made from other poems, and they feed off each other. Go back to a successful poem, one you are pleased with, or perhaps where the form suggested itself naturally. Maybe you could write another poem in that form, or the poem may prompt another. (Useful idea when putting together a collection. Poem that work in isolation don’t necessary form a coherent whole, and conversely some poems only work in conjunction with those around them.)

Brendan also quoted John Berger when he said “Poetry can repair no loss, but it defies the space which separates. And it does this by its continual labor of reassembling what has been scattered.” Reassembling what has been scattered – what a nice idea.

After a few more drinks in the pub after the workshop ended, I made my way home to find my husband had cooked a sausage casserole, and he and stepson regaled me with everything they’d been up to. But I confess I was completely burned out and halfway through dinner suddenly I couldn’t listen to (or utter) another word. Call myself a poet? I have no stamina!

Category: Workshopping